I have a fairly nice prize pack of Drew Estate cigars I would like to offer for this contest. It includes a signed box containing one Manifesto and one 'A', a patch, a Dirty Rat, a Ratzilla, a couple stickers, and few other yardgar DE sticks to sweeten the pot. All you need to do is write an original single page or short story (no novels please). It can be true or fictional. It can be about you or someone else. Just make it either the best comedy ever or the best sob story ever and I will choose the best 5 stories and we shall put them to a vote on the site. The story with the most votes will be declared winner of this meager prize pack plus a few other sticks that aren't shown.

You have the rest of this month or so to submit your story (please no plagiarizing, I see a lot of stuff online and am well versed in funny stories as well as BS sob stories as are a lot of our members or you will be disqualified) and we will begin voting sometime in early October so we can wrap this up before Thanksgiving. Post your entry in this thread.

A redneck and his sister were walking on the beach...the sister says..."hey bro... Lets go behind one of these and dunes and fool around..."

Brother says..."heck yeah... Ima gonna get me some!" and they proceed to get busy as only a redneck brother and sister can. After a few minutes the sister says..."damn brother... You screw just like daddy does..."

Brother says..."hmm... You must be right... Mama said the same thing last night...."

1992 .My wife and I were married about 1 year and living in Rochester, NY and we were expecting our first child. Earlier in the year we had experienced a house fire which destroyed the contents of the house and killed our 2 cats and my Amazon parrot "Bugsy". By this time we had fully recovered, the house was fixed and we had new cats, and instead of getting another Amazon parrot I got a Blue and Gold Macaw, "Loco" . This thing was beautiful but required a LOT of attention.

Every day I would prepare him a nice bowl of fresh fruit and vegetables before I left for work. At the grocery store that week I also picked up Habanero peppers for him, as they love them and don't really experience the effects of the heat.

On the day in question I had prepared the bowl along with the peppers and went to work. I got home at 3:30 and he had demolished the contents of his food bowl, he loved the peppers. As was my usual daily routine, I opened the top of the cage, he came out and climbed onto my hands for his scratches around his neck and under the wings. After I few minutes I set him back on the cage and went to the bathroom.

About 5 minutes after going to the bathroom I started feeling very uncomfortable in the vicinity of my private parts and it was getting worse by the minute. It turns out my hands were loaded with the oils from those peppers and handling my business without a thorough cleaning of my hands was a TERRIBLE mistake.

At 4 PM my wife walks in and I am sitting on the couch in full sweat with a cold washcloth on my junk. She looks at me and says " Where the hell have you been? "

True story.
Back in the day,myself and a couple of my friends were staying at a cottage on a lake.Now this cottage had no power and the facilities were located in an one holer out side in the back of the cottage sitting in the middle of a group of large trees.
One Sunday morning we were up early and decided it was ten o'clock somewhere and started to induldge.After about an hour my best friend and still is decided he had to make the trek to the facilities to do the deed.We gave him some time to get down to business and thought it would be real funny to lob a beer bottle over the roof and into the area of the outhouse.
Well out we went ,gathered up a beer bottle and lobed it over the roof,after a few seconds we heard a smash of glass breaking so we run back inside and waited for my friend to come around and tell us how big of A holes we were.
We waited for about five minutes and were just about to go see what was going on when around the corner of the cottage he came holding his head.What had happened he went out back entered the outhouse ,closed the door to were there was an opening of about six inches left enclosed and got into the thinking position with his head supported by his hands and his elbows on his knees.The bottle that I threw over the roof from front to back made it all the way over through all the tree branches and through the small opening in the door and hit him on the head and smashed.He almost blacked out and it took him that long to get his bearings to get himself composed to get back to the front of the cottage.
The bottle didn't cut him and there were no long lasting effects.But we still talk about the one in a million bottle lob and we always have a good laugh.

In my sister's family, there is her, her husband, and 3 teen age kids. My sister has more money than we do and likes to update her clothes regularly. She and my wife are similar in size and my sister often gives my wife her clothes to pick through when she is done with them. One day my wife was wearing a new top that I found made her look particularly sexy. When the day ended I started to get romantic with her. I said, "I feel a little weird about this; that being a top my sister used to wear." My wife said, "No, it wasn't your sisters. It was one of your niece's." Worked better than a cold shower.

My grandfather was a wonderful man, who could paint a story with his words and facial expressions, and he was also a great cook/baker. He would whip up pies from scratch, and cook a huge amount of food for all of us to EAT!, which he would say to us after we've had seconds...or thirds! Yes, his cooking was that good. One spring night, while we were all visiting grandma and grandpa at their lake house in Kingsland TX, Papa put together a wonderful spaghetti dinner for all of us to enjoy. As we were finishing our second or third helping, depending on who you ask, my grandfather went into a story of how noodles were invented. "Noodles came from China", he said, "and the Italians cannot lay claim to inventing spaghetti. "Besides that", he chimed, "the Foley familys' Chinese relatives were one of those who helped invent noodles." "BULLSHYTE!" we yelled. With a straight face, he said, "no, our Oriental ancestors did indeed help invent the noodles that are now used by others in spaghetti dinners the world over." He then stood up, looking out over all of us at the table, and as he squinted his eyes, while bowing as if in China, and said..."They were known as the Foo-Lee's, a wah-so!"We all about pissed ourselves and laughed and laughed! One of many great memories I have of my Papa, Robert Ambroise Foley, and his Irish wit, or blarney, depending on who you ask!

The Last Hurrah-haha

by Brian Foley

My Papa was in the hospital, and we all knew he was not doing well. This was a little over a year after Sophia, his beloved wife had passed, so a broken heart was one of his ailments. The last time I saw him was in his hospital room, the cancer in his brain had him doing and saying wild things, but he would then come back to being ol' Papa. As I sat with him in the room that night, he proceeded to tell me that the mayor, the police chief and city planners of Austin had met with him in the closet in his room, asking for advice on how to make the city safer. I asked what they talked about, and he told me that it was top secret, but he would look to see if I could be brought in as an adviser, which would bring me into the inner circle of the safety committee. He then told me he had to get up and call the mayor now, so that we could make this happen. With the IV still attached to his arm, he started to get out of bed. I had to gently ask him to stay put until I could get a nurse to bring us a phone. He kept trying to get up, saying it was urgent. I was able to convince him to stay seated while I went to get someone to assist us. I left the room, quietly, but frantically trying to find someone to help me. It was around 11pm at night, and the halls were empty. I finally found a nurse, who was not feeling the urgency as I was, but she said that she would come help in a few minutes. I walked back to Papa's room and found him sitting up. I let him know that a nurse would be in soon to help us out. He laid back down in his bed, and looked at me with a gentle smile. "How are Terry, Nolan and that red headed handsome boy Brogan, doing?" I let him know my wife and kids were doing great, and that they were thinking of him. "That's good, I really love them", he said, smiling. The nurse came in, checked on Papa, asked if he needed anything, and he said, "yes, some Jello please." She left and we continued to talk for about 15-20 minutes. As I was leaving, I gave my Papa a kiss, and told him I loved him very much. He said, " I love you too Bri." I walked out of the room, crying happy tears, yet having the feeling that this might be the last time I see Papa alive. Later that night, while my entire family was out at the lake house, the phone rang at 3am. It was the hospital, letting us know that Papa had transitioned...we cried, told stories of Papa, laughed, and cried some more before heading back to bed. As I reflected that morning while sitting on the front porch, with a cup of coffee, I realized what I had received that night at the hospital. My Papa gave me some of his Irish humor, and all of his love, to me and my family. I still laugh a little, and cry a bit, when thinking of this night. But, what a gift, to have Papa say he loved me...Bri

I was travelling internationally to Penang from Hong Kong via Cathay Pacific. My companions are a Malaysian named Rosman and a Nick, a 6'3 white guy from Pennsylvania.

We get to Hong Kong airport and all proceed to the ticketing counter. We all go to the same agent who gives Nick and Rosman their boarding passes. She then tells me that there is not a seat for me on the plane. I show her my ticket (this is a few years back when Cathay was still using paper tickets) and ask her why there isn't a seat for me.
Her response was a dismissive "Sir, just because you have a ticket, doesn't mean that you have a seat".

My sarcastic response was, “So what does me having a ticket mean then, aside from being dumb enough to give your company money without the guarantee of a seat?”
She just stared at me and then handed me a voucher for a cup of coffee at the snack bar, telling me to come back in a half hour after other passengers have been checked in.
We start to head to the snack bar, when I realize that the line has grown so long that it will be a half an hour wait if we got back in line right then. I also see her taking name tag off, grabbing her purse and leaving for the day. It is about an hour before the flight is scheduled to take off.

We get back in line (taking that half hour) and they finally find me a seat. While we are working through this, Nick heads to the plane.
We are now about 30 minutes to take off. I grab my liquids and put them into a plastic bag for security. Rosman laughs at me and says “This is Asia; we don’t have to follow those ridiculous security procedures”.
Guess what? They stop Rosman at security. We are now about 15 minutes to take off (doors closing in 5 minutes). I run to the train. Rosman stops me and says that there isn’t time to wait for the train. Instead we have to run across Hong Kong airport (about a 5-10 minute distance by walking, but I am also dragging my suitcase and laptop bag).

We get to the gate, and Nick is physically blocking the doorway with his body preventing them from closing it on us. We are able to board, Rosman heading to business class, and me back in row 30 with Nick behind me in row 31.

I am out of breath and laughing at how ridiculous the whole affair is. I figure that we are done with the ordeal and that I can just relax in my tiny seat and go to Malaysia without further incident. I WAS WRONG.

I hear this gravelly voice call out, “American!” I ignore it.

“AMERICAN!!”

I realize that it is addressing me.

“AMERICAN!, shut up!”

I look back and see this Transsexual in row 32 right behind Nick.

“AMERICAN!, Shut up or I will kick your ass!!!”

At this point, I do the only thig reasonable in this type of situation. I start laughing my ass off.

“AMERICAN! I AM SERIOUS: I will kick your Fu@king Ass!!!”

I am turning red from laughter and Nick is freaking out because he is between me and it.

I got to hear another 5 minutes or so of threats before it finally calmed down and stopped trying to pick a fight.

It bolted out of the plane before a physical altercation would have taken place (I am 220lbs; it was probably 90 lbs soaking wet). Such a confrontation would probably have ended poorly for it.

That is one of my most unusual travel stories. Guessing those who travel internationally must have had something similar happen to them?!

True golf story here, pretty much every time I golf I come back with a funny story but this one was really funny. Playing at a course called meadow oaks with a friend of my sons. We used to all golf together but now jared is across the country so I still play with his friend Alex. Alex is the type of guy that yells jackass when you are on your back swing. Yeah as if I wasnt bad enough already.

So on this particular day we come up to the two easiest holes on the course. They run side by side like a two way street and are perfectly straight par 4s. They are separated by a thin tree line so a bad slice can wind up on the other holes fairway. But not for me because Im awesome and I tank one 280 straight down the fairway. Got on the green in regulation and then 4 putted. But that was ok because I beat Alex that hole.

Next hole I didnt fair so well and hit it bout 90 yards 2 foot off the ground and of course onto the hole we just left. Alex wacked it on the fairway and was pretty happy about my plight. Sigh... so anyway I see my ball its not far from the other holes green actually, maybe 100 feet. So I go up there and look and see if I have a shot through the tree line to punch it back on the fairway. (yes we dont take penalties for out of bounds, in fact if we can get a ball out of the water for a drop we dont take penalties there either lol). So I take a 3 iron and punch it and low and behold right through the trees and onto the fairway.

As I watch my brilliance here comes running a short stout man up the fairway screaming his head off followed by 2 custom golf carts with flames on them with 3 more angry looking fellows. He gets close enough that I can see the 60 ring gauge Churchill he is smoking and starts screaming Hey MFer thats my Fn ball you just hit. The two golf carts pull behind be and Alex is hiding behind a tree in the treeline.

So I say dude that was my ball I sliced it over here from the next hole. This guy was beat read and yells no a-hole your ball is over there and points about 10 feet away where my balls was. s**t man, so I say im sorry and ask if he wants me to go get his ball and he says no just hit your Fn ball and get out of here.

Now here is the funny part, I cannot hit very good consistently. But what i do do constantly is hit very bad when people I dont know are watching me. And this time my friends it was no exception. I take the same 3 iron and hit the same shot but this time it gos so much higher and so much faster and nails a tree, then ricochets back at my head. I duck as does the pissed off stout guy with the stogie and I smash the ball into the golf cart that had two guys in it....In the distance I hear Alex chirp out a single LOL from behind the tree where he is still hiding.

So without hesitation I walk past the guy bend over and pick my ball up and look around at all 4 of them and in my best clint eastwood voice from grand torino I say..now you fellas have a nice day.. If looks could kill... Then i slowly walked away grabbed alex hopped in the cart and went 2 holes up assuring we would not see these fellas again. In hindsight I should have asked what type of cigar it was. Anyway hope you liked it these things happen to me all the time everyday. Im a klutz so always an adventure. Happy smoking!

Well, we have a few really good stories so far , but I would really like to have a couple more so we can make a best of five~! Letting this run until the 20th to see if there is anyone else interested in some 'ol DE yard gars.......